Just A Game
by JuliaBlu
Summary: FINALLY UPDATED! Jack and Sally are meant for each other. But how will they cope with a domineering diva from Jack's past who threatens to take over Halloween this year and Sally's very life? Can Jack's love conquer all or will love conquer him? R&R.
1. Spoiling the Mood

"Does my Bone Daddy like?"

A devious smile curled the Pumpkin King's lips as Sally appeared in the doorway, sporting a jet black, silken teddy with fine fishnet stockings. She shrugged her shoulders persuasively and he grinned back in reply. Tapping a stiletto heel she persisted for a verbal response. "Well?"

"Sally... you're so..." He came toward her, embracing her in a backwards hug. His hand caressed her small waist. He breathed into her hair, "...Magnificent."

She giggled. "You're not so bad either. But I'd prefer if you played dress up too."

"I dunno," Jack said playfully. He tapped his chin with one long, bony finger. "As I recall, the last time I did that I ended up pretending to be a certain 'Sandy Claws' and wreaking havoc upon small children. So, it might be better if I stay as is."

"Jack... please? For me?" Sally implored. "Or I won't handcuff you to the bed."

"Ohhhh," he moaned in protest. "But that's my favorite part." Sally gave him a stern look and Jack finally gave in. "Fine, fine..."

He disappeared into the other room to hunt for a costume. Sally smiled to herself contentedly. Ever since she and Jack became lovers, she had been on cloud nine. She would never forget the night he realized she had always secretly cared for him.

_"He'll fix things Jack. He knows what to do," she had said of Santa, gone to rescue a wrecked holiday. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder._

_Jack turned toward her, awestruck. "How did you get down here, Sally?"_

_Sally blushed and twisted her hands. "Oh, I was trying to... well, I wanted to... to..."_

"_To help me," Jack finished._

"_I couldn't let you just..."_

_He seemed to view her in an entirely different light. "Sally, I can't believe I never realized that you—"_

And that was it. Though cut off by the imposing mayor, they had made a connection, and later that evening, along with finding Jack upon the Hilltop, she truly found herself.

"Feast your eyes, my rag doll," he drawled, leaning against the doorway, legs crossed.

Jack was decked out in a sweeping velvet cape of the deepest black, bedecked with small diamond crystals that resembled snow. Beneath the billowing cloak, he revealed a red silk shirt with puffed, medieval sleeves, ribbons flowing loosely at the wrists. The top of the shirt hung open. His pants were black, smooth as the surface of a gravestone, and his shoes reached considerable heights.

Sally squealed with delight.

"Any requests to be... swept off your feet?" he asked, covering her with his cape. She was drowning in his enticing, familiar scent of... what was that? It was so comforting: a soothing, manly smell... the scent of lavender... so sensual...

"Oh Jack..." she said, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. "I love you so much." He bent down and kissed her neck and then her collarbone, until she felt pinpricks of pleasure all over her and could no longer tell where his lips grazed.

She pushed him on the bed where they kissed passionately. Sally was untying his cloak, giggling. "You're such a—"

The doorbell rang.

They tried to carry on with their affection.

It rang again.

And again.

"Maybe... you should... answer that," Sally managed between kisses.

And again; each time the noise seemed to be louder than the one preceding.

Finally, Jack came to terms with the fact he was no longer 'in the mood' and moaned angrily. Sally bolted upright, fixing her shoulder strap hastily. "Dammit!" Jack swore, stomping forward to answer the door. "Who the hell visits at this hour?"

The door rang one more time as he reached for the handle and jerked it open. "WHAAAT?" he bellowed, wearing a ghastly expression that could make hell freeze over.

There upon the doorstep was the Mayor, a happy grin from his face completely gone and replaced by frozen terror.

"Oh, mayor," said Jack apologetically, his tone completely changing. "I'm terribly sorry. What can I do for you?"

A tick pulsed under the mayor's left eye as he whispered, "Plans... for... next... Halloween," before fainting right there on the spot.

As Sally asked Jack who was at the door, he simply eyed the spread-eagled mayor lying on his porch.

"Oops."


	2. Chairman of the Fright Board

"He's... he's perfectly fine! He's just... taking a little nap," Jack explained as Sally approached the front door.

"Jack!" she cried, outraged. "What did you do to him? He looks like he just died."

"He can't die, dear. He's already dead."

"Well, I don't appreciate your quaint little euphemism. 'Taking a nap'? Jack, did you frighten him?"

Jack blushed a deep scarlet. "That's a bit of a euphemism too, don't you think?" he said worriedly.

"We can't let him just lie out here all night. It's freezing." Sally was poking her head out from behind the door, shivering as she spoke.

"And I would gladly warm you up dear," Jack began brightly, but Sally's warning glare reminded him of the current crisis, "but uh... hang on, I've got the perfect remedy for this!" He dashed inside, lanky limbs flailing. "Stay right here with him!" he whispered as he passed by her. Sally blinked and, still clutching onto the door, stared at the Mayor with sympathy.

"Hurry up..." she muttered to herself. As she did, the Mayor started to rise.

"Oh, what a terrible nightmare..." he whimpered, his sickly blue, sad face taking over his emotions. "Wh-what was that... monster at the door?" He noticed Sally and his face changed to the 'happy' side. "Oh, Sally dear, have you seen--?"

At that exact moment, a torrential wave of icy water crashed upon the porch. "BLARGH!" cried the Mayor, head literally spinning as he jumped up in disarray. Sally turned, fire-eyed, at the source of the commotion. There was Jack, a priceless look of surprise painting his little white skull. In his hand was a now empty silver pail.

"Ah... so... you're awake," he offered, tossing the pail aside. "That's wonderful!"

The Mayor seemed to be struggling with an emotion that was difficult to classify from the outside looking in. It could easily have been anger, sadness, or some form of a mental breakdown. But the Mayor, looking up and see Jack's irrefutable grin, forced a small smile and said, "Yes, it is, because I have most wonderful news, Jack. If I may present you with the plans for next Halloween?"

The Mayor handed him a stack of bleeding parchment, which he accepted with a look of disgust. The ink spread over his hands like a contagious germ.

"Sorry they're a bit late. I've been rewriting and finalizing them all week. I knew you were anxious. You don't mind my dropping in, do you?"

"Not at all," he lied smoothly. Jack never cracked under pressure, at least not when others were around.

With a cheerful good-bye, the Mayor set off down the steps. Just when Jack thought he was safe, the Mayor turned and added, "Nice outfit by the way. It's very dashing!" When he was half way down the street, Jack and Sally ran inside. Sally shut the door with a shudder.

"Now... to finish what we started..." Jack began, taking her hand and reciting, "'Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.'"

Sally batted her eyes, a bit flattered. "Oh Jack, maybe later."

"What? Why?" Jack asked, standing stunned in the living room. He heard Sally's distant reply from their bedroom.

"I'm too tired," she said simply, searching through her linen closet for something warm to wear. He followed her, ready to object until realized he was still holding the inky papers. He looked down and saw a blotch a black ink spreading down his front. "Oh no! This is Italian silk! Now it's completely ruined!"

"You should really get started on those plans."

Accepting defeat, Jack sighed, started up the coffee pot, and began to read over the plans.

"Oh, and honey?" Sally said.

"Yes?"

"You might want to change before dawn. When light hits this tower, everyone in town can see you. I wouldn't want this fashion to catch on. You look a bit like a pimp."

"Thank you dear," he said cordially.

Sally closed the door with a soft thump. Jack slumped over his papers. "Ah, the passion that we have so dearly missed," he moaned. "What time is it? 3 am... good grief." He sorted through the papers. "I can barely read these..." he grumbled. "Let's see... Head of Ghost Patrol: Sergio... very good... Leader of the Witches: Callisto and Shock... Pumpkin supervisor: Morga... Vampire Leader: Spag. Hm, never heard of him before. Must be a newbie. President of the Knit Club? Sally. Wow, I didn't even know we had a Knit Club. Hmmm... and of course, Chairman of the Fright Board, Jack— _WHAT_?"

Jack blinked. He had clearly misread. Yes, that must have been it. The papers were so smudged. He rubbed his eyes and reread the line:

Chairman of the Fright Board: Isis Lefou

"You have got to be kidding me," he whispered, thunderstruck. "This is bad... very, very bad..."


	3. Ultimatum

Jack opened his desk drawer with a shaking hand and removed a bottle of ink and a quill. He drenched the feather's tip in ink and scratched out a name. He scratched it out over and over again, until all one could see was a blob bleeding out onto the paper like octopus tentacles.

The combination of sleep deprivation and shock seemed to take their toll on him, and with a numb awareness, the Pumpkin King retired to his bedchamber.

But the more Jack tried to sleep, the more his mind anxiously languished with thoughts of the name he angrily buried in ink. "You're not a part of my life," he muttered. "Dammit, you're not a part of me anymore!" He covered his face with his hands and curled inside himself. He had to do something... but what? The dawn was approaching. Like a ghoul leaping from behind a shadow, Jack sprung from his bed, throwing back the covers in a flurry. Sally grunted, turning on her side, but was still sound asleep. Jack looked back at her quickly, blew her a kiss, and said worriedly, "I'll return, my love."

He ran down the stairs to the front door. As he reached for the knob, a ghostly white creature crossed his path. "Zero! Not now, boy!" he said in a hushed whisper. Zero barked again, wanting to play. "I can't," he apologized. Zero whimpered, and watched with sad eyes as Jack slinked off into the Town.

"Who... who can I talk to? She's back... she's finally come back... Isis... I had forgotten."

He had no idea where his feet were going; there was nowhere to go except inside his own mind, into the memories...

But then, he guessed, if he could not find her, she would find him...

He passed the Vampires, just retreating into their coffins, and the witches making an early breakfast stew (its smell mingled with the heavy morning mist), until he reached the Graveyard. With a heavy step, he climbed the spiral Hilltop and took a seat at its peak.

His legs were curled up, his hands around them, his head down. He felt the heat of the sun caress his cold bones. And then, he felt something tap his shoulder; light as gauze, like a small spider.

His whole being perked. He jerked his head up and heard a voice say behind him, "Surprise."

…

Sally squinted as something cold covered her eyelids. Yawning and sitting up, she opened her eyes to find Zero. "Oh, boy—stop it now. Oh... huh?" She flipped back her long red hair and asked, "Where's Jack?" She stretched and shuffled out of their bedroom to Jack's workspace. The plans that were delivered last night now littered the floor. "He always works so diligently on those plans. Did he get frustrated or... upset over them?" She gracefully bent down and plucked up the list of activity leaders. A name was heavily crossed out beside the Fright Board Chairman. Sally put her delicate hand over her mouth, eyes wide. "Oh no, is Jack... tired of his position?" Meanwhile, Zero nudged her forcefully. "You know where he went, boy?"

Zero yelped desperately.

Sally ran down the steps, Zero floating eagerly behind her. "There's only one place Jack goes when he's stressed."

…

"I see you've come to the spot where you promised we'd meet again." Her voice was like a thousand ice crystals, all gliding over his body with a taunting grace. He shivered at their touch.

"Isis..." he said weakly. He still had his back to her.

"You promised me a lot of things, Jack. But they were never kept."

He finally turned to see a woman with shimmering silver skin, draped in blue satin dress with white trim; the inverse of a female Santa costume. Her eyes were an endless steely blue-grey, boring into him.

"It was long ago," he said.

"Not too long ago." She put her hand (the touch of rain drops) across his chest.

"Stop..." he said. "STOP!" he sat up, harboring a deep fury. The caves he had for eyes were now swallowing the power of her crystalline ones. "You shouldn't be here," he said, pressing against her arms. "Go back to your own Town."

Isis laughed in his face. She flipped back her platinum blonde hair, her red lips quivering. "We're kindred spirits, Jack. But you betrayed me. I've come for my little... revenge. How can I go back now?"

"Isis, no... things have changed..."

She stepped closer to him, her lips curling provocatively. He never forgot their tight, heart shape as she leaned in and said, "If they haven't changed already, they will now." In a swift motion, she cupped her cold hands around his head and kissed him deeply. An overpowering memory came back- it stabbed at his heart, his senses... a feeling of sorrow, of love, of hope...

And then a dog barked.

He spun; there was Sally at the foot of the hill, her heartbroken eyes staring up at him, at Jack and another woman kissing on _their_ sacred ground. Tears welled in her eyes. She made a small choking noise and fled, Zero in her wake.

"Wait," Jack began. "No! Sal—"

Just then the silver maiden covered his mouth with her palm. "No. You are mine."

Jack bit her hand and she let go, barely acknowledging the pain. Jack was fuming. "You... you _bitch_! How _dare _you touch _me_!" As he said "me," he swung his hand back, preparing to knock her out of his life with a mighty blow.

_Thwack. _Isis grabbed his wrist, the bones in her hand flexing, her sharp, sapphire nails forming a cage. "No. You _will_ let her go, Jack. You see," she whispered in his ear, "you will obey me now. A long time ago you promised me Halloween Town... and you promised me your heart. I am here to make sure those promises are fulfilled. If they are not, that little rag doll will be nothing but threads and stuffing. Do you understand?"

Jack closed his eyes, a silent tear trickling down his face.


	4. Spag's Suspicion

"The situation is just splendid!" the Mayor reassured a dashing young punk named Spag, hitting him heartily on the shoulder. Spag's piercing green eyes squinted down at the Mayor in question. The Mayor continued, "I'm sure Jack's called this meeting to organize the plans for this Halloween."

"As usual," the vampire drawled back, fixing his hands in his burgundy, alligator skin coat. He stood on the high alert, his straight-legged black pants accenting his long frame. His shiny black platforms took on an extra glossy sheen under the brand new chandelier hanging above them in the town hall.

"You must be dreadfully excited. He has anointed you leader of the Vampire Gang."

A confused look graced Spag's pale features. "I can't imagine why though…. Mr. Skellington and I have never met."

"Ah…" The Mayor's ecstatic banter was suddenly taking a downward spiral. "Well, then… you got lucky, my boy. I must admit, Jack and I both agreed on different candidates; I sent a final draft back to his house, filled with the same things we had agreed on, but since that date there have been some last minute changes I've only just heard about. I suppose he's called the meeting simply to clarify…"

Spag was no longer paying attention. His starlit eyes were now focused upon the tall figure sweeping into the room, sending a hush over the crowd. His eyes were expressionless, but his mouth was fixed in a foolish grin- almost too painful to form. Spag instantly tensed.

"My… my fellow citizens of Halloween Town," began Jack. "Another year is upon us; to grow, to celebrate, to do what we do best, and to do it better than the year preceding." Several creatures in the front row cheered, but Shock loudest of all, as she was co-leader of the Witches this year. "Another year," he continued, "to add to our frightful skills, to impress upon those ever-loving mortals just how fun life can be with a genuinely good scare." Jack sighed. He was usually very straightforward, and the Mayor was wondering why he was beating around the bush. "For a long time now, I have been the arbitrator of what we do and who is in charge. This year evokes within me a need for change. With that said, I have found someone with equally fearful prowess to take my place. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to hand over the crown to the new Chairman—oh, excuse me, Chair_woman_— of the Frightboard: Miss Isis Lefou!"

He was the only one clapping as she pranced out in a blue corset, glass high heels, and a twinkling, fairy-like tutu adorned with jingle-bells, which echoed across the deadly silent Hall. Hundreds of crestfallen faces gazed from the retired Pumpkin King to this giddy, jingle-bell-laden successor. Sally tore from the room, her tears splashing onto the cold stone floor. Jack's smile was as hollow as his cavernous eyes and as forced as the laughter he emitted in trying to lighten the mood.

"Thank you so much, Jack!" she said, stepping in front of him, beaming, the shade of her ice blue lipstick stabbing hopeful hearts and deflating them in a single blow.

"Isis is an old friend of mine and has promised to make this a very terrifying year! Please treat her with the same respect as you would me. En…enjoy your new positions." Swiftly, spider-like, Jack took a seat right beside Spag. Everyone burst into wild chatter.

"I've seen bad things happen… but this? This is… ridiculous," Spag thought. "Mr. Skellington?" he said aloud. The skeleton made no response— his forward gaze was unbreakable.

"It's like he's lost his touch!" someone whispered a bit too loudly. "Is this… Christmas fever again?"

"Hey, Christmas kicks ass!" another fired back in his defense.

"Oh, the Pumpkin King can't lose his crown!"

"Everyone, please settle," came Isis' soothing lull. Her white-blond hair had been crimped and pulled back into a bun since Jack last saw her. She was so fluffy and cute it was…

"Scary," remarked the bass player.

"Definitely scary," agreed the sax player.

"I think I just shit my pants," said the midget inside the bass.

"I'm glad you like me," Isis commented, walking about on beautifully sculpted legs and stiletto heels. Okay, so she wasn't that cute and fluffy; she had a dangerous edge as well.

Spag could bear this no longer. He ran from the Hall, Isis' voice ringing in his ears.

He saw Sally just down the way, her balance a bit more off kilter than usual. He placed his hand on her shoulder and spun her around.

"Sally," he said softly. "What the hell is going on? Who is that… that… that _thing_ in there taking over Halloween?"

"I…" Sally struggled to hold back tears. "I… don't… know."

"What's… why is he…?" Even Spag was at a loss for words. He stood there and held Sally in his arms while she sobbed, disturbed by Jack's actions and this newcomer. Somewhere, a clock struck 8, and a murder of crows fluttered overhead. Spag stood in their shadow. Sally kept crying. To reassure her, Spag said, "Maybe… maybe I could do something. I… could talk to him."

Sally nodded weakly. Spag gave her another reassuring pat and sped away. He would try to catch Jack after the meeting was over. He turned around, watching the poor rag doll go. _I don't like that Isis. Something's going on here, and I'm going to figure it out._


	5. Fire and Ice

AN: Hey everyone. So I know I haven't updated in SIX YEARS. But here is ANOTHER CHAPTER. No, I will never abandon you AGAIN! I am working diligently on this story now! HOORAY! Enjoy… and please forgive me.

Spag darted back inside the Town Hall, his spiked red hair not even affected by his swiftness. He had to fight his way through, as several people were already leaving. His agile form skidded to a halt at the door, his freshly polished black dress shoes squeaking as he did so. The meeting was just breaking up ; he could tell by the tumult of chatter. Most of the monstrous citizens looked confused (and they weren't nearly as monstrous as the overly-bubbly little snow princess prancing before them). She looked ecstatic. With one of her legs jutting upward behind her, she gave the Mayor an aggressive hug.

"Oh—oh my," the Mayor coughed, adjusting his top hat. "H- how do you know Jack? You must feel honored."

"Yes, I do. Jack and I go _way_ back." Isis darned an impressively large grin, one that made Spag's skin crawl to watch. Suddenly, the two of them made eye contact across the room. This exchange embodied the intense friction between fire and ice, she in her blue bodice and he in his red getup. He felt the vibration and then pulled his stare away. He had to find Jack. His head darted around the room, but Jack was nowhere in sight; he was not to be found in the seat that he took once Isis had begun speaking. Meanwhile, Isis was still watching him, a frown coming over her expression.

"Miss Lefou? Are you all right?" asked the Mayor.

She snapped back to reality, and re-applied her sparkling, captivating smile. "Yes. Yes, just fine." But now Spag was on her naughty list.

_Fuck, I have to find him. _Spag thought frantically. He sped out of the main assembly room and walked briskly down the halls, which harbored other gathering rooms.

He upped his speed, his platform shoes clacking, and then rounded a corner. And _there_, there he was, the Pumpkin King, walking through an unfamiliar haze of depression.

"Mr. Skellington! Excuse me! Mr. Skellington!" called Spag, waving an arm frantically as he did so. But the Pumpkin King kept his head lowered. He seemed to be buried deep in thoughts of misery.

"Mr. Skellington," Spag huffed, having finally caught up with him. "What—what the hell is going on? Why is this happening? You wouldn't do this. You wouldn't give away your position."

"Oh, yes, yes I would. For a good enough reason," droned the Pumpkin King, keeping his eyes averted and his back to Spag. "If that's what you've come to bug me about," he said, with his profile just visible to Spag, "then please leave." He turned his skull away and lowered it into his chest again. "I can't be bothered answering everyone's questions about that particular subject." Jack started to walk away.

Spag didn't want the King to flee so suddenly. He wanted more information. He had to keep him here for as long as possible, to garner any and every kind of clue. The vampire cleared his throat. "Oh, well, I was… I was also wondering… why… why did you appoint me? You don't even know who I am."

Jack finally turned to face Spag. His smiled dimly, but there was no light in the caverns of his eyes. Where was Jack's usual energy and life?, Spag wondered.

"You're different, Mr…. What was your name?" Jack asked, putting a hand to his chin.

"Spag. Spag Hetti," the vampire replied quickly, extending a hand.

Jack managed a small sideways grin at that. He shook his hand firmly. "Mr. Hetti, you're—"

"Please, Mr. Skellington, call me Spag."

"Then, please, call me Jack, Spag."

"Done. You were saying?"

Jack crossed his arms and said matter of factly, "You're different, Spag. You're not like the other vampires. You know, you're not old or stout with a thick Transylvanian accent. You don't wear black or have black hair, for that matter. I feel like you could bring a fresh vision to scaring that the other, older vampires who have filled the Leader of the Vampire Gang position could not."

Spag wasn't satisfied with that answer. He felt that was an observation that Jack was just now making, rather than a factor that weighed into his decision. "Well, thank you, Mr. Skell—_Jack_. I'm honored," Spag managed humbly. The two beings stood awkwardly before one another. Spag stood staring at his shoes, and Jack glanced from side to side, pondering. "But… if you didn't meet me until just now—"

"Well," the skeleton blurted out. "I better be off." And as Jack spun away from him, the vampire noticed his expression changed from blank to incredibly pained and forlorn. Clearly, Jack was using all his strength to compose himself and put on a polite front for others, but inside, he was miserable.

_This is terrible_, Spag thought. Jack doesn't want this. _Something fishy is going on h_—

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a blue, soul-sucking demon wearing makeup and heels shot down the hallway at them. "Jack!" the sparkly creature screeched. Jack froze. "_There_ you are! I have been looking _everywhere_ for you! Are you making a new acquaintance?" Her heels clacked toward the two of them.

She latched herself onto Jack's arm like a leech, making Jack sway a little, and dragged him back over to Spag. As she grinned at Spag with her diamond white teeth, it took all his strength not to shudder at her repulsive fake charms. "Hi!" she said, extending her porcelain doll's arm toward him. He stared at it like it was a foreign object for a split second, before realizing that he was being rude. Reluctantly, he accepted the offer, and felt like his insides had frozen the instant he touched her skin. "I'm Isis Lefou, as I'm sure you know!"

"Yes. Excellent speech," Spag said in a clipped manner.

"I am so delighted that Jack has bestowed this honor upon me! You must be Spag Hetti. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He froze at those words as a sudden realization dawned on him. He then remembered his conversation with the Mayor before the Town Meeting:

"_You must be dreadfully excited. He has anointed you leader of the Vampire Gang," the Mayor had said._

_"I can't imagine why though…. Mr. Skellington and I have never met," Spag had replied._

_"Ah… Well, then… you got lucky, my boy. I must admit, Jack and I both agreed on different candidates; I sent a final draft back to his house, filled with the same things we had agreed on, but since that date there have been some last minute changes I've only just heard about. I suppose he's called the meeting simply to clarify…"_

_Jack had no idea who I was, yet Isis knows my name?_ Spag thought incredulously. _Could she have…?_

He snapped out of his trance as he noticed that Isis was no longer smiling. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he could have sworn there was something like rage rising into her eyes. And suddenly, he felt terrified. In a stiff, frozen voice, with an unconvincing smile on her face, she said, "Oh, my, I just remembered I have a private matter to discuss with Jack. Excuse us." She shot a hard glance at Jack, who just nodded. Then, Isis turned on her heels and clacked away, Jack in her wake.

_I've got to talk to the Mayor!_ Spag thought. _Someone_ _has intercepted those papers, and I think it's _her_!_

Like lightning, he rushed to the Mayor's house, hoping against hope he could figure this mystery out.


	6. Something's Up with Jack

AN: Hey everyone. I went back and made a minor change to chapter 4. At the very end, a clock struck 8 (P.M.) instead of 3! Also, expect some art of Spag, Sally, and Isis up on soon! Thanks for reading and reviewing! I LIVE FOR REVIEWS! Hope you're enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing! Let me know what you think so far and who your favorite character is, haha! Love, JuliaBlu

Everyone had already gone home. Spag felt suddenly like he was the only one in Halloween Town. He was alone in both a physical and mental sense. There was nobody, and no answers.

As he made his way across the town square, he thought briefly of Sally, and he frowned. _I hope she's okay_, he thought. Of course, she was gone, too. But where did she go? And what was wrong with her? Was she just as upset about Isis replacing Jack as everyone else? But that didn't seem to be the answer. After all, although Isis' appearance might have merited a torrent of tears, no one else was crying at the meeting except the poor rag doll; they were just confused. Again, Spag knew that something was not quite right, and he was aggravated that more questions kept popping into his mind rather than answers.

His green eyes seemed to glow as he furrowed his brow, determined to reach his destination. His shoes clacked in lonely desperation across the cobblestone, and with the encroaching darkness came a cold spell. _That's odd_, Spag thought. _Perhaps I should dress more appropriately. _He stopped walking on a dime and closed his eyes in intense concentration. And suddenly, ZAP!, Spag was no longer wearing his stylish red alligator skin jacket, but an even more stylish long black trench coat. _That's better_, Spag thought, smirking.

"Whoa! Where did you learn to do that?" a voice cried out suddenly from behind him. Spag felt like he must have jumped four feet in the air.

"Jesus CHRIST!" he bellowed, turning around to find a young little witch behind him. "Don't DO that!"

"Do what?" she asked.

"Scare people like that."

"That's what we're supposed to do, isn't it?" She scratched her long, triangular nose and stared up at him quizzically.

He ignored the girl and started to walk again to find that his footsteps were being echoed. Suddenly, the witch caught up to him.

"I'm Shock," she said, stopping to extend a handshake. Spag kept walking, his lips pursed. When she saw that he had snuffed her, she merely stared after him for a few seconds, and then scurried forward faster until she was in stride with him. "Where did you learn to do that?" she asked again.

He sighed loudly. "Something I picked up from your kind," he finally revealed, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his luxurious new trench coat.

"A _witch_ taught you that?" she cried, her eyes wide. "Why would a witch teach _that_ to a vampire?"

"I was willing to learn and she was willing to teach me."

"Which witch?"

"What?"

"I said 'WHICH WITCH'!"Shock hollered.

"Why does it _matter_?" Spag exploded, stopping again. Shock wasn't paying attention to where she was going, and thus bumped right into his legs.

"Hey!" Shock spat back, just as furiously, her cheeks flushing scarlet with embarrassment at her misstep. "You can't talk to ME that way. I'll have you know that I am LEADER of the Witches this Halloween!" Her last triumphant declaration overrode her recent fumble.

"Well, that makes two of us, doesn't it?" Spag replied. "_I'm_ Leader of the Vampires."

"Oh. OHHHH. You're SPAG!" she shouted, jumping up and down and pointing at him. "Yeah, they announced the names of the Team Leaders and everything at the meeting. But no one stood up when your name was called. Where were you? Didn't you go to the meeting?"

"Of course I went to the meeting! I—" But then he remembered how he had run out of the hall to escape the horror of a frozen woman so cheerful it was downright sickening. "I—stepped out for a few minutes. That must have been when they called the names."

"Oh," Shock said, the faintest trace of disbelief coating her voice. "_Right_. Well, it was right after—"

"—Right after Jack got replaced with Isis, that fucking ice bitch. Yeah, I know," he snapped.

For a moment, Spag thought that he finally shut the little green kid up. But after a short pause, the witch softly asked, "Why… why do you think Jack picked _her_?" Spag thought he heard a strain in her voice, as if she were about to cry. "Of all creatures, her?"

"That's precisely the predicament, Shock," Spag said darkly. He turned away from her, and drew his collar up around his face. "I don't think Jack _did_ pick her. Not at all."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really. And I vow to figure out more. Won't stop 'til I do. I'll kick that bitch out of this Town myself if I have to."

Shock laughed viciously. "Well, if you ever need any help in that department, you know just who to call." She thumped her thumb on her chest and beamed. "I'm the meanest, scariest witch in this entire Town. You just say the word, and she's toast. In fact," she pulled up her sleeves, "I could dispose of her _right now_ if you wanted."

"No, no, that won't be necessary. I don't even know if there's a proper reason to take such drastic action… yet. Innocent until proven guilty," he finished.

"Oh no, I'd say she's guilty until proven innocent!" Shock roared.

"Well, at least give me time to gather some evidence before I do anything."

"Isn't there any way I can help?" she asked.

"I think I can handle it," Spag said.

"If you ever have any doubts," she said, "just remember, the name is SHOCK! And hurry up, or I'll resort to Plan B and take her out myself. The other Townsfolk and I are already talking about a coup d'état."

Spag believed it, but he knew that none of them were actually serious. They might hate her, but he was certain they needed real evidence to take any action against her newfound position of power. And that's what he was after: evidence.

"Well, see you!" she cackled, and raced in the opposite direction. Spag sighed as he watched her go, then about-faced toward the Mayor's house.

When he finally reached it, he didn't hesitate in the slightest as he banged as loudly as he could on the black front door.

"Excuse me!" he shouted. "Mayor! It's Spag! May I have a word with you?" After several more bangs, he heard no response. "Please!" he continued. "Please, Mayor, I know you're in there. It's urgent!"

Without warning, the door flew open. The Mayor was smiling in the doorway, but it seemed a little forced to Spag. "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeesss?" he asked.

"Mayor!" Spag sighed, relieved. "May I come in for a moment? I have to talk to you. I'm concerned… about Jack."

"Of course, of course! Come in, Spag," the Mayor said, stretching his arm out to welcome him. Spag politely walked in front of the Mayor. "Sit, sit! What seems to be the trouble?"

Spag promptly sat down on the Mayor's plump tan sofa. "Jack doesn't seem to be himself."

The Mayor nodded in apparent understanding, and then asked, "Would you like a cup of witches' brew? I only have instant." He left the living room to bumble about in the kitchen. Spag shot him an irritated glance that he couldn't receive, and the chinking of tea cups and the sound of water filling a kettle made him twitch with irritation.

"No," Spag replied shortly.

"Well, I'll let you try it anyway. It's to die twice for! You were saying?"

"I was saying that something's up with Jack."

"Something's _always_ up with Jack, isn't there?" the Mayor said, and Spag became even more annoyed at the lack of care he detected in the Mayor's voice. "One day he's the happiest man dead, ruling Halloween Town. The next he's depressed because he's done it all before. Then he's happy again because he's meant to be Pumpkin King—"

"Right. He's meant to be the Pumpkin King. And he can't be the Pumpkin King if he's not the Chairman of the Frightboard. Everyone knows that. Otherwise, he's just a figurehead with no influence of how we do things!"

The Mayor stopped his chatter. In fact, he didn't say a word for a few long moments. Spag heard the whistle of a kettle, sounds of pouring and mixing, and the clanking of china on china. Then, the Mayor emerged from the kitchen with two small tea cups, each with its own saucer, in his hands. He set them down on the coffee table in front of Spag, then sat across from him in a hideous green armchair. Finally he said, "And your point is…?"

"My point is that I don't think Jack would give his position away. Not after such a hard lesson learned with the Christmas fiasco. I mean, it's suspicious. What would prompt such a thing?"

"Indeed! What would prompt such a turn of events? That Jack Skellington, he's quite a character! So mysterious!" the Mayor cried, lifting his tea cup up to his nose and inhaling deeply. "Mmmm," he hummed, closing his eyes in his pleasure. "What a cup of brew! Please try it, Spag!"

"Mayor, I'm a _vampire_."

The Mayor stared at him.

"I don't eat?" Spag suggested, hoping the Mayor would understand. Nothing dawned on his face. "I only drink… blood?" Spag said slowly, in utter disbelief.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, the Mayor's expression cracked. "Oh. Oh, yes! Yes, of course. Well, I'll have your cup then, m— mmm!" The Mayor greedily pulled Spag's cup toward his side of the table. In one gulp, he drained his own cup. "You were saying?"

"I'm saying that it doesn't make sense for Jack to give away his position. Besides, no one is going to let him. The Christmas thing was a totally different situation. He was distracted. He wasn't himself. And now, with Isis taking over, Jack is even _less_ like himself than when he wanted to be Sandy Claws."

The Mayor was now sipping Spag's cup of brew gingerly. He licked his lips and blinked up at Spag. "Well, he picked her, didn't he?"

"That's what I've really come to discuss with you, Mayor. You see, I don't think Jack picked Isis at all. I think the Leader assignments are bogus."

Unexpectedly, the Mayor burst out into raucous laughter. Brew spilled over the side of his cup as he leaned back and clutched his stomach. After a few moments, he wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh! Oh, forgive me! It's just… why would that be, my dear boy?"

Inside, Spag was shaking with rage. "Mayor… please. Humor me for a moment. Think about it. Jack doesn't even know who I am! He met me for the first time today. And Isis… Isis…" He stood up, no longer able to be a polite guest in an elected official's humble abode. "Everyone knows that Jack would never pick anyone like her! She's… she's…"

"I've heard enough," the Mayor said in a flat tone. He didn't need to have a screaming match; there was a hard edge in his tone that shut Spag up immediately. "Spag," he said, suddenly gentle, "had it not occurred to you that perhaps someone recommended your name to him in passing?"

Spag blushed instantly. Had he over-thought everything?

The Mayor set his tea cup down firmly. "As for Isis' nomination," he continued. "I trust Jack's decisions with my life. We all know… I can't make decisions by myself. I trust his final word. And her name was on the final draft, which Jack approves." He paused, and then sighed heavily. "Spag. Jack is getting old. Had it ever occurred to you that Jack might be interested in retiring soon? In settling down and having a family?"

Spag had another flashback to Meeting conversation: _"I feel like you could bring a fresh vision to scaring that the other, older vampires who have filled the Leader of the Vampire Gang position could not," Jack had said to him._

Maybe Jack did take a recommendation from a friend, just based off the knowledge that Spag was young ,fresh, and different. Maybe there were things going on in Jack's life that Spag couldn't possibly understand. After all, he barely knew the skeleton. Did the Pumpkin King really know what was best for everyone?

"Mayor," Spag pressed, taking his final shot. "Who was the last person who handed him the plans for Halloween?"

"Me," the Mayor replied simply.

"Are you sure about that?" Spag dared to ask.

"Just what are you implying?" the Mayor asked, his brows furrowed, his voice uneven.

Spag sighed. He had outworn his welcome, he felt.

As the Mayor shut the door on him, he also felt incredibly embarrassed. What if he really was wrong about everything?

And then, he felt wet. Rain started to trickle, then to increase in volume, until it was finally cascading from the sky enough to seep through his trench coat. His red hair was no longer spiky, but matted with the fresh shower.

Above all things, he felt defeated. He kept his head lowered, and thought optimistically _At least this feeling can distract me from my loneliness for a while_. He stepped on the moon's reflection in the shiny, wet cobblestone. As he turned a corner, he gasped at the sight of a figure huddled in a nook down an alleyway; it was retracted into itself, its head resting on tucked-in legs.

Spag approached and saw that it was… "Sally!" he cried, exasperated. He bent down to her. She slowly raised her head to look at him with puffy eyes, her hair stringy and her face beaded with sweat, rain, and tears. "Why are you…?" he began.

"I have nowhere to go," she said weakly, a sob stuck in her throat. "Jack and I… we… I don't know what's happening between us!"

And finally, he felt a rush of the deepest empathy for her. Alone. She was alone, like he had been for so long. And she needed help. Like the good Samaritan he was, Spag said, "Let's get you out of the rain. Come on." With a heave-ho, Spag gently placed her arm around his shoulder and lifted her from the ground. "You can stay with me. I have an extra bedroom." As he guided her back to his flat (she walked as though she were drunk, although in some sense this was true—she was completely incapacitated with sadness), he couldn't help but smile.

For the first night in long while, Spag wouldn't have to be alone.


	7. Don't

AN: This chapter's kind of short. I just wanted to churn it out, since I have so much more planned! Heeheehee. More to come, I promise. 3, JuliaBlu

As Spag escorted the soaking rag doll into his building, he had to part a black sea of vampires, all of whom were shooting him questioning stares. He glared back at them briefly and, like a gentleman, let Sally walk in front of him.

She tottered up his shabby spiral staircase, the wooden planks jutting up and out, making her more off balance than she already was. Spag promptly put his left arm around her upper body, and held her left hand in his right. She just kept her head low, watching every step so as not to miss one. Finally, they halted in front of a door. It was unusually tall and looked sucked in at the sides; almost like an hourglass shape, but not quite, and it was pitch black. Still with his left arm cupping her shoulders, Spag fiddled in his right pocket, and then fumbled with a key… on a skeleton keychain. "Skeleton key," he said, grinning at her, "but… not exactly, seeing as how it can only unlock _my_ door." She glanced up at him for a moment, and then cast her eyes down again. Crestfallen that he could not even jar a smile out of her, Spag busied himself with the task of opening the door.

With an earsplitting squeak, the door floated open to darkness. Spag promptly led her to a fluffy red loveseat, lit the long, off white candle resting on the end table beside her, and then looked in his closet to find his trusty patchwork quilt. _Damn, she's out of it_, he thought, covering her with the blanket. He smiled to himself… it was rather odd to see the clash of a patchwork dress against a similar quilt. Sally looked pretty hilarious right now. But then he snapped out of it, for the matter at hand was too serious to smirk about.

"Sally," he said, bringing the quilt up around her shoulders. "Can I get you anything? A cup of tea?"

"Tea would be nice," she managed. On his way to the kitchen, Spag lit a few more candles; some were on the mantle above the fireplace, some were resting on other surfaces. Spag shuffled around in the kitchen, and made her some chamomile tea. He figured she was probably okay with silence as he made the tea. Silence was better than a symphony of sobs, after all. He brought a cup and saucer over to her. She cupped the mug in her hands. "Are you warming up now?" He hoped the hot tea and blanket would calm her down even more, and it did seem to be working. "Sally," he began, "what would happen between you and Jack that would put you out of your house, abandoned on the streets?"

"I'm not sure what or how it happened, but one minute I see Jack kissing this woman, and the next he's made her the Pumpkin Queen!" She had started crying again.

Spag felt as though he had been stung. "Isis?" he breathed. "He was… kissing… Isis?"

"I saw the two of them together. I have no idea who she is. And the next thing I know, he's parading her in front of Halloween Town like some goddess, just beaming about it!"

"Have you talked to him or…?"

"I haven't bothered to," she said, drying a few tears. "I think actions speak louder than words. After all, he must be in love with her—he threw his crown at her."

Spag felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Not only did the Mayor have no suspicion about Jack, but Sally as well. "But… he never wanted to throw his crown at you, Sally."

"Well, I guess that I just don't know him as well as I thought," she said. Suddenly, the fight seemed to leave her, and she said in a deflated voice, "I… I know his past. He has quite a history with women. How… how could I possibly have believed that he really loved me? Me, an ugly rag doll, a monster's creation—"

Sally looked up to find there was a finger on her lips.

"Don't." The word had escaped Spag's lips without him meaning it to; he sounded wounded. She stared at him, wide-eyed, and Spag couldn't tell whether she was searching his eyes for a reason why he had reacted so strongly to her words, or why anyone would try to stop her saying she wasn't worthy of love—such a clear reality in her mind now. He lowered his hand from her face awkwardly. "It's just that," he began explaining, seeing that she wanted some kind of answer, regardless of the question flittering through her mind, "I don't think you're ugly at all. And I think there are plenty of reasons Jack loves you."

_In truth, it hurts to hear you tear yourself down like that when you're so… you're soooooooo…_ he thought. He was sweating, he suddenly noticed. He dabbed his forehead. "Are you cold?" he asked her, trying to cover up the awkwardness of his recent outburst. "I can make a fire if you want," he offered.

"A fire would be lovely… if you're not too hot," she said, noticing his perspiration.

"No, no! Not at all. I'm still a little damp from the rain, anyway." He turned his back to her to busy himself with the fire.

"Anyway… I don't know if Jack felt anything at all, to tell you the truth," she continued. "We connected for one night… a night I thought meant so much more… but I was _wrong_," she bleated out bitterly. Tears welled up in her eyes for a third time. "I know what I felt. I can't deny that. But he can write me off so easily. Oh! I'm so naive! I've never been in love before. How do _I_ know what love is?"

"You said he has a history with women?" Spag asked, stoking the flames.

"Yes. He was a ladies' man, so they tell me. I didn't want to believe any of it. We were so in love. But now I don't know if what he felt was love or lust. Judging by this new… woman… if you can even call her that… I'd say it must have been lust. All those premonitions about smoke and fire," she babbled, "maybe they weren't about Christmas, not just Christmas—maybe they were about _us_… going up in flames."

"A ladies' man," Spag repeated softly to himself. "I can see that." When the fire was roaring, he went back over to her again.

"Yes. Who wouldn't fall for Jack Skellington? Handsome, popular, incredibly dashing…"

Although Spag was trying to be as sympathetic as possible, he couldn't help but feel a twang of jealously as Sally listed the skeleton's notable attributes. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

"Indeed, who wouldn't? Even I would if… well, if I swung that way."

And for the first time, Spag heard Sally laugh. And he could have sworn it made him feel just as good as she felt. A huge grin cracked across his face. "So… Jack's a player then," he finally said after they shared a hearty laugh. The candlelight made her eyes glisten. He felt glad that she was relaxed now. He had thought about saying _So Jack's a player? Who woulda thunk it?_, but he was afraid that might upset her again.

"Can I get you some more tea?" he offered. She stretched her arms and yawned. Touching her long red hair, she sighed, "Noooo. I'm fine. I'm just tired."

"Let me show you your room, then," Spag said. He offered her a hand. She took it, and he lifted her off the couch. _Oh, she's so light on her feet_, he thought. He felt exhilarated with her hand in his. He couldn't explain why.

The moonlight was pouring into her room when he opened the door. "Sheets are fresh and everything. Sometimes my uncle from Translyvania comes to visit me… that's why I have it. Just let me know if you need anything."

She nodded at him, her lips turned upward, her eyes sparkling. "Goodnight, Sally," he said.

"Goodnight… and thank you," she said, her hands clasped together in front of her, "for taking me in. That was very kind of you."

"Of course. No trouble." _How could anyone abandon you?_

They smiled at each other. He shut the door gingerly.

He brought his hand up to his chin, his coat swirling as he stepped toward the loveseat. Plunking himself down, deep in thought, he mused _Maybe… when I saw Jack at the meeting… he was feeling guilty over their sudden break-up? Could that be why he looked so sad? Maybe I just don't have the full picture… and I don't want to press Sally too much for details… it's such a sensitive subject for her. _

If only Spag knew how right his last hunch was. Still, he had no answers.

…..

At that exact moment, across town, in a tower…

"Well, Jack, getting that stupid rag doll out of the picture was easier than I thought." It was a chilly night, and Isis had decided to stoke a fire as well. Usually Isis looked like a perfect snow angel (tonight she wore a dark blue sweater over her frilly tutu, and white pumps) but the glow of the firelight made her look slightly satanic; her entire aura was tinted red. Her platinum hair looked a little yellower, too. At any rate, she may as well have been the Devil… a literal devil on Jack's shoulder, no longer in his mind to torment him of days long gone. No, those days came back to haunt him far worse than he could have ever imagined…

"It appears as though she's gotten the message: we're an item. Now… who else do I have to get out of the way?" she continued. "That ginger vampire?"

"I thought you liked him," Jack said lifelessly. He was staring out the tower window, the tower where long ago he had conducted experiments to try to figure out Christmas. Now, he just wished a certain Christmas gift would crawl back into the ugly hole it came out of. His eye sockets frantically searched the city below. _Sally… _he thought. _Sally… I hope you're safe._ "You picked him, after all."

"Yes. I hope he doesn't become a nuisance, though. I think he's snooping. But… what am I telling you this for! You just wait, Mr. Skellington! You just wait! You FUCKED up Christmas! That was your trial run... doing it here. Well, I don't need a trial run. I'll show you how Halloween is really done, and on the turf where I really belong! And, oh, my little love slave, how you'll help me with those plans, now won't you?"

_If it means keeping Sally safe_, Jack thought. "Yes. Of course." He tried as hard as he could to keep his tone even.

"Of course you will," Isis said. "My Jack."

And as she put her arms around him, he muttered, "Don't."

"_What_?" She flung herself back from him.

"Don't!" he shouted, turning on her, and she backed away from him a little more with every word he thundered. "Don't touch me. Don't pretend like I love you! _I don't love you!_" His voice had finally risen into a boom, the type of voice he might use on Halloween Night to frighten the masses.

Yelling at her felt good, Jack thought. He felt just like his old bony self again. Wonderful. And terrifying.

They stared each other down for a moment. She narrowed her eyes at him across the room, her arms at her sides, her hands clenched. Finally, she said, "Goodnight… Jack," and turned on her heel to retire to sleep. But inside she vowed that he would pay for that remark. His name was now the most recent addition to her naughty list.

Yes, there was tension in Halloween Town that night, but the most was created simultaneously as two ghoulish creatures who would not (and could not) sleep pondered over the object of their affections…


End file.
